I was not expecting to use this music for this. Over the last few months I had been having trouble sleeping, and finding soothing, ambient music that wasn’t too new-age or AI-driven was what led me to Totality, the second collaboration between the music ensemble known as Natural Information Society and Bitchin Bajas, a sonic companion traveling the same roads. I had no prior experience with either group, but the fact it was released on Drag City (home of Ty Segall and Wand, among others) was a good sign. And now it’s here and I’m playing it for very different reasons: to starve off the shock and heartache of a friend’s sudden passing.

I don’t want to write about that; I can’t really write about anything. It’s too soon, was too sudden, and I’m grappling with the knowledge that in a few hours I have to start calls and emails and let folks know. So I’m using the droning lull of Totality to settle my nerves enough to try and be as calm as I can as I start meeting with folks. He was the first person I hired back in 2017 when I moved into management: a young kid who just got married and who everyone said looked like me. Worked for me for two years, moved to another team but then in 2021 I lured him back and he’d been my right hand man ever since. Until yesterday when he didn’t show up for work.

My ears turn back. It’s hard to really make distinctions between Totality’s four tracks of lush swells that border on the orchestral accompanied by minimalist pulses that runs through the entire album. The opening title track is 17 minutes of brain cinema, scoring my thoughts without judgement. It’s followed by the brief four-minute “Nothing Does Not Show” which features enough percussion to evoke a rhythmic, tribal vibe, the bass work and mournful sax sublime. It might be my favorite piece on the album.

There’s a sense of doom refracted through the winds on the 13-minute “Always 9 Seconds Away” and its opening leaves too much space for me right now, making me conscious of my obligations. He would always be interested in what I was listening to, even though he himself was a Deadhead, always making the pilgrimage to see Dead & Co. He really fell for Caravan’s In the Land of Pink and Gray when he heard it in my office. He knew my moods, was a shoulder when I needed it, and I was the same for him. He had been going through a rough divorce which was getting rougher; the last time I saw him was Tuesday, when he came to in silent tears asking if he could leave early to deal with lawyer calls. I calmed him down and let him go home – the most important thing was that he get himself together for Thursday, because he was going to his son’s pre-school graduation in the morning and then presenting with me for a product demo in the afternoon.

I texted him in the morning telling him to have a great time at the ceremony and to ping me his lunch order so it was here when he arrived. When he didn’t respond I tried again, making sure he was okay. When that didn’t elicit a response I texted a third time, telling him to take the day, don’t worry about work and I would cover, but to let me know he was just okay.

By that time he had already passed. They found him in his car, pulled over on the road a quarter of a mile down the road from the graduation.

He was on his way to work.

My ears are back to Totality, and this isn’t fair to the band, but I can’t think of anything to say.

To anyone. I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow.